Set Ablaze
by extracoolpainter
Summary: Katniss and Peeta never won the 74th Hunger Games. Watch out as the years reach 100, and a new and more frightening than ever twist comes about this century. Rated T because it's the Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

Centennial Games

Chapter 1

"Up, Seal! Get UP!" screams my older sister, Praxely. Oh, yeah. Today's the day they read the card that tells about the Quarter Quell. Awesome. Even though I won't be going into the games. My sister will. She's 18, and she can volunteer. She's been training since she was 5. She's really good at archery. I know she can win if she's chosen. It's her year. I snuggle up with my other siblings, Jango, who's eleven, and Laura, who's six. We watch President Snow on the television. He pulls out the card marked 100.

In no way can I brace myself for what he's about to say. "In honor of the 50th Hunger Games, and to show that the Capitol will forever rule over the twelve districts on Panem, we are repeating our rule from those games. Two female and two male tributes will be entering the Hunger Games this year.

Carp crap. Mom sweeps in and takes Jango and Laura to the Meadow so they can play without bothering our training. Now there's no way my tough sister can save me. She's excellent with every kind of weapon, bows and arrows, spears, swords, maces, and she's in top physical condition. I've been training since I was five, too, but that's only seven years for me and thirteen for her. I'm even better that her with knives, and she says I always sneak up on her when she's not paying attention.

We go out to the market today, because it's a beautiful morning in District 2. We have to report to training at 7:30, and it's only 7 now. Praxely may seem like a tough know-it-all, but she's really soft and kind. She says, "Seal, if we get thrown in the games together, I'll do my best to help you." I response, I just reach up and hug her. She hugs me back.

"Is this cheating? Praxely Delilah Johnson, I know better that you're better than that." We laugh, and stop hugging to look at her boyfriend, Chris. He's seriously the comedian.

He ruffles my hair and ask how I'm doing. "Well, who's doing the cheating now, Chris?" I laugh. Praxely always tells me I'm quiet. I might play dumb just because a twelve year old with my knowledge of common sense may well be deadly in a fight or in the arena.

They go to training, and since I have 30 minutes until my knife test. My instructor said that if I passed it, that I'd move to Chris's class. And Chris, he works with the top trainers. He corrects _them. _It's seriously good to know. My trainer says I'm agile, I have incredible aim, and I have a velvet tread that always freaks her out.

I catch myself thinking about life for a minute. I am intuitive. I knew mom and dad were going to divorce. I heard her talking on the phone about how much it bothered her (my mom) when my dad came home drunk. My dad drinks a lot.

I also know a lot of things about people. Like Praxely has no aim, but she's great at math. She can factor in the distance, velocity of wind speed, and a whole ton of crap that I don't care about. I just care about the feeling of success when my knife hits that target.

Chris and Praxely are proctoring my test, going to the target and examining the exact millimeter the blade landed on. I hold my breath, close my eyes, and picture the dummy and my knife. The red circle in the middle beams out its center in a long cylinder, and when I throw my knife, I imagine my knife following and hitting the exact center.

I won't open my eyes until I hear the conformation. Yes! Everyone checked. I passed the first part! Now for the hard part.

23 targets slide out in different areas. My left hand holds a single knife, ready to launch at the blinking one. My right, 22 more, ready to pass along to the left, my throwing hand. I throw and throw until all the targets are dead.

I passed! Every single target, as my sister brags to Chris, forgetting he was actually there, had the knife dead in the center. What can I say? I'm just wonderful. Is that conceited?

My sister goes into make-Seal-prettier-than-possible mode. She puts four coats of mascara on me, two of lipstick, and a touch of silver eyeliner, which she says match the silver flecks in my green eyes. She frowns at my corkscrew curls, then, evidently, has an epiphany. She parts my hair on the side after brushing it extremely hard.

"That's the problem with corkscrew curls. You just can't style them!" Praxely is complaining the entire way to the reaping. Since its late March, the reaping has begun. We get our finger pricked, and the Peacekeeper shoves to the twelve year old pit. Behind me, I smile at my friend George Mason, Chris's little brother. He's thirteen.

He mouths, "You look nice." "You too." I do look nice. I have on a black peacoat with a green eyelet dress with a silver slip. He has on a green sweater vest, a white button- down shirt, black pants, and brown loafers. I have on silver cowboy boots, and my toes are pinched.

Jenessa Carlinburg cheers her way onto the stage. We all applaud politely for a woman with green hair and a tight silver dress. "Happy Hunger Games! And for a twist this Quarter Quell, President Snow has elected that no volunteering be allowed." Praxely and I exchange a look of horror. I could be going into the games! It's possible now. She mouths, "You'll be fine!" I go, "Really?" She nods.

She trots over to the glass ball. "Ladies first! And our first female tribute for the 4th Quarter Quell will be, Praxely Johnson!"

I feel my stomach sink. I knew it might be inevitable. I just hope the next name she picks up isn't mine. "Cecelia Johnson!" My name is Cecelia. Just my nickname is Seal. I hear a strangled cry of "NO! SEAL!" from Praxely on stage. I reluctantly go join her. She and I hold hands and hope for George and Chris's safety.

I'd like to say the rest of the reaping turned out fine. But it didn't. As I predicted, George and Chris were picked. Instead of shaking hands, we all did a group hug, defying the Capitol in our own way. This sucks. We were sent to the Justice Building, where Jango came in and hugged Praxely really tight. Laura crawled onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. My mom and dad came in, and we all just sat there and hugged.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After many tearful goodbyes, we set off for the train. Jenessa exclaims about how "District 2 is the best district, don't you think? Masonry is sure to be any of you guys' talents when you're victors. SO, when we get into the train, an Avox will show you to your room. You should change into more casual clothes. You should also take a shower. Then, we'll have your mentors talk to you about strategy, and we'll have lunch. They will then show you their Games, and then talk more strategy and then it will be time for dinner."

"After dinner, we'll watch recaps of the reapings, and then you'll have to get in bed, because we get to the Capitol REALLY early tomorrow. You'll have a speedy breakfast here. Got it?" Praxely mumbles, "Can you write that down?" Jenessa hands us each a copy of the week's schedule until the games start on Friday.

George is like, "Who's our mentors?" Jenessa says, "Sit down. Tell me your talents and levels, and I'll assign you a mentor according to that." She starts with Praxely. "Archery, Level 5." Without a second thought, Praxely is assigned to Render Thorto, the archery freak who won the third Quarter Quell. I thing about Jango and Laura. Are they okay?

George is next. "Spears level 3, Swords level 4, and Archery level 5."She assigns him to Render also. We only get the youngest and most recent victors. "Knives, level 9, and hand-to-hand combat, 10." She gasps, and sends him to Cato Armstrong, co-victor of the 74th Hunger Games. She finally turns her eyes on mine, and I notice they're the same color green as mine. "And you little girl. What are yours?" I gulp, and hold up my test certificate to prove it, since nobody will believe me. "Knives, level 9." She doesn't say anything as Clove Rosen, co-victor of the 74th games, comes up and smirks at me. I shrink down in my seat.

After 8 long hours of talking to Clove, my new 'best friend', launching knives at mahogany tables, eating, and watching her games, talking more, and then launching more knives, and finally stuffing myself with dinner, I squeeze between Praxely and George, both at least a foot and 30 pounds bigger than me, we watch the reapings.

I take note of every tribute in the small notebook I brought for the train ride. Inside it already I have written down most of the strategy speech Clove gave me. In my neatest handwriting, so if it is indeed shipped back to district 2 with my body, my family can read it.

This is what my Career pages say; I needed to take note of them for the alliance:

District 1:

Jewel Simmons- blonde hair blue eyes-15

Amethine Jenine- brown hair blue eyes- 16

Hardy Burstrock- blonde hair brown eyes- 18

Marvin Young- blonde hair green eyes- 17

District 2: (us, I thought I'd write it down anyways)

Praxely Johnson- brown hair blue eyes- 18

Cecelia (Seal) Johnson- black hair green eyes- 12

Chris Smith- blonde hair brown eyes- 18

George Mason- brown hair brown eyes- 13

District 4:

Georgia Gallant- red hair green eyes- 18

Sparkle Hayword- blonde hair blue eyes-17

Ben Jimmon- black hair brown eyes-16

Henry Hashbur- black hair hazel eyes-18

Not one of the other tributes was close to my age, size, or knowledge. Yes, they all looked pretty stupid. Clove gave me a couple more corrections on how to hold my knife before we all went to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night from a horrible nightmare. We were trapped in a huge expanse of water, and there were fish mutts designed to leap on you in a gang the moment you touched a millimeter of your skin to the water. I watched them rip apart Praxely, Chris, and George. The moment the last of the three cannons sounded, an island grew like a spiral to touch all of our plates. The other Careers were upon me before I could lay a hand on the nearest tree, and then I see nothing but black.

I scream, and Praxely pulls me in to her bed and hugs me. We them doze off, until Jenessa comes and gently shakes us awake. Jenessa's certainly nicer than most escorts I see on the television. Praxely lets me take the first shower, and when I come out and am getting dressed in my Capitol outfit, she remarks, "You were certainly screaming a lot last night. What was it about?" I remember my dream as if it were five minutes ago, but I don't tell her. I don't want to scare my sister. Instead I shrug.

She helps me get dressed into a purple and black dress, and she puts on a pink off- the- shoulder dress. We go into the meal cart for a speedy breakfast before we get our first view of the Capitol.

It's like the pictures in the books. Except I have a feeling that those pictures downplay it on purpose, so when we actually see it, we're even more intimidated. Or at least I certainly am. I doubt if I'm really a fit Career. I am, obviously, but I'm small, and even though I have sense, I can be overpowered easily.

Even Clove told me my best bet was to grab the nearest weapon and backpack and dash out, not to stay until the bloodbath is over. I'm the smallest of any tribute here.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The light is literally bouncing off of the buildings and pouncing into my eyes. I blink, and then get my stuff from my room ready. Until I realize there is no stuff to get ready, unless you count the reaping outfit they already sent back to District 2. Which I don't count.

We step off the train to adoring faces and screams of our names. Clove takes her knife out and threatens to kill people if they don't shut up. Even though she's forty years old, she is still in top physical condition, and could take on a crowd of these Capitol people.

We enter the remake center. I see the people who will be my prep team. A lady with bright orange hair and golden tattoos named Sunset, a man with green hair named Ridge, and another lady with silver glistening hair and golden lips named Tara. They cut my nails, gloss my curls, wash me, lotion me, and mostly rip my hair out of my skin. It really hurts, but I don't utter a word. Some Career I would be if I actually felt pain.

They paint my nails a soft pink, put frosty pink lipstick on my lips, and drag on coat after coat of mascara. They put silver eyeliner on me. Then, my stylist comes in.

A beautiful woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and very little makeup except for the silver tattoos on her wrists, comes up to me. She says, "Come over here. We'll have lunch." I talk with her for a long time, while munching on the broiled chicken legs that were this year's featured course.

I learn her name is Gina, and she and I talk about the costume. She says, "Since masonry is your district's industry, and it's custom to reflect the flavor of that industry, we are going to dress you up in a construction worker's outfit. But, we will put our own delicate touch on this outfit, since you are a small and delicate tribute. Understand?" I nod, and she pulls me into an outfit.

I decide that I like Gina. She doesn't treat me like a typical scared, small twelve year old child. She knows I'm smart, and she knows I'm fierce. But she and I also know that it will be senseless to portray me as anything but that.

I look in the mirror at myself. My original silver cowboy boots. A plaid skirt the same pattern as the worker's pants at home. A black polo shirt not unlike the black button- downs they wear. And, a yellow hat, curls hanging loosely out. Gina is like, "That's beautiful, Seal! And, has anyone ever told you about how you stand? It's weird, on your toes, and your arms refuse to stay down at your sides."

"No, I haven't noticed." "Well, you do!" she squeaks. "For the chariot, as I expect my partners are telling your fellow tributes right now, we want you all to put your hands in the middle, and interlock your fingers. To present you guys as a team. It's been done before, and it creates quite a splash. Since you have that odd posture, let your other arm fly out at medium height," She adjusts my arm. "Just like that." I nod, smiling. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and I go out to meet my friends.

I see George beside me, and Praxely and Chris behind us. I turn around and do a tentative smile at Chris. I've never smiled directly at him before. His face breaks out in this huge grin, and suddenly everyone's smiling in spite of themselves. The district 1 chariot starts to move. They're usually the favorite district, because they make luxury items and have been called the Capitol's lapdog. George says, "Remember what the stylists said." We all take hands in the middle, and I hang mine out to the side and take my usual position on my toes.

Then, we roll out by the horses. "District 2!" reads Lenny Haren, the new announcer. We all look at ourselves in the screens. My hair is covered in flowers. So that's what Gina's odd black barrettes were for. I smile, but I can't wave. Our group is the most ragtag of the twelve. Everyone else seems to be of a uniform height and weight.

Everyone cheers our names. I feel just like a mockingjay. I should. Famous, light, and ready to take flight. Also, even though I would never say this in front of anyone, but I love to sing. Every night I sing myself to sleep. I've always been the quiet one in my family. I don't find a reason to fight right out of the blue, over the most unburnt bacon strip or the most perfect egg. I don't really care, knowing that the poorest people would snatch up any food they can get, no matter how many imperfections.

The chariot ride comes to a halt, and our hands unravel. I put my arms back slightly out, but remain on my toes. 12 years of doing that, it's how I am now. We sit and listen as President Gottfried drones about the Capitol. I don't care, and that's when our carriage is pulled into the training center and the doors close behind it.

We go into the training center. I listen as Atala, still indeed the head trainer, talks about the rules. No hitting other tributes. Hit the survival stations. That's what I decide to do this morning.

I do poisonous berries and other plants. I tie knots in ropes and make snares. The supervisor is very pleased when I can tie an advanced knot, and goes on to teach me more. I learn a lot, and it's in solitude, which I don't get much having three siblings and basically another two, since they're always at our house. Also, my mother's pregnant again, so the house is chaotic this month. And without Praxely, Jango has taken over Laura's care and keeping.

I can't wait until after lunch, when Chris is bragging about how he's gonna do the knife obstacles. Just like the test at the Training Center back home, except its more state of the art and the targets move. I think, "_I am so gonna take you on, Chris._" I get up when we does to go to the course. I take out my 23 knives.

I decide not to do the one next to his, but I'll try to beat him to the target. He throws, I throw faster. As my first knife impales the target, he looks around in astonishment. "I guess I should find my own course!" he says. He gives me a rueful smile, but I'm still focused on the course. I succeed in getting all of the knives on the bulls-eyes.

Everyone looks up in shock. I grin and head to the next station.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The rest of the morning goes pretty well. I make sure I intimidate everyone else while learning a few things too. I paint myself into a dandelion patch. I throw a couple of spears and tear up a few dummies with a lightweight sword. I make traps and snares, tying knots delicately. I learn how to make fires. I sort out poisonous berries from edible ones. I go through the obstacle course, only to discover a new talent.

At lunch, I sit with my sister, Chris, George, and all of the other Careers. Something doesn't feel right. I grab more salmon. Still not going away. The feeling in the pit of my stomach, that I won't ever me accepted here. I spend the rest of lunch looking for half- friendly looking people to ally with.

I try some archery stuff after lunch. I don't think I'm doing anything right, because I can't seem to hit the target. I remember taking a class in archery back home, only to have my trainer sit down on a bench, put his head in his hands, and mumble, "Might as well hit them with the bow." After that, I sort of dropped the situation.

So, I'm failing at archery, and a deep voice comes to my ears from behind me, just as I'm retrieving another badly shot arrow. "You're doing it wrong. You need to aim up and to the left of the spot you're trying to hit. These things are heavily affected by gravity at that distance, and there's a bit of an easterly draft in here."

I whip around, and see someone. An eighteen year old, with rippling muscles, blond hair, and green eyes the same shade as mine. I try desperately to remember his name and District. I'm saved by him speaking up, possibly triggered by my confused instead of hostile look.

"I'm Oak Jenger. From District 9. We do the grain. I know you. My mentor made me look out for you in particular. Said you could throw knives like Clove when she was sixteen. You're Cecelia Johnson. You came here with your sister. You're twelve. And, you like to be called Seal. Why?"

Another friendly question. I don't know what to say. Then, the answer comes to me. I set down the bow, because I'd be better off hitting someone with it anyways. "When my little sister, Laura, was really little, she couldn't pronounce my name. Cecelia's hard to pronounce when you're four. She called me Seal, and that's why. Anyways, I never really like Cecelia anyways. Too long and girly."

I take a step forward. I notice that I'm at least a foot and a half shorter than Oak. He asks, "Aren't you supposed to be hanging out with the rest of your posse?" "I don't fit in. They're all brawn and no brains; I'm all brains and no brawn. It's as simple as that. Here, I'll trade you something. What about an hour of archery for an hour of knives?" "What can you teach me about knives?" I take one from the inside of my jacket, take another step forward, and lob the thing backwards.

As planned, it hits the bulls-eye. I smirk, and say, "Does that answer your question?" He laughs. "Yeah, I guess it does. Hey, do you wanna be allies, once the games start?" "And leave the Career pack?" "Well, if you don't…" I cut him off. "I'd love to!" We shake on it, and then I start to figure out the basics of archery.

I leave the Training center that evening, happy and able to shoot a bulls- eye in archery. 49 times out of 60. Now, comes the difficult part. Telling Praxely.

I go up to her and say, "Prax, we've gotta talk." "Yeah. You see, the other Careers aren't as happy about a twelve- year old, even with your skills, in the pack. They don't think you can survive well like the rest of us." "So, you're kicking me out of the Careers?" "Yeah. Sorry Seal, but I won't ever hurt you, and I'm pretty sure George and Chris won't either." "Ok!" I smile at her and skip out of the room. I bet she's baffled about how I took that so well.

The next two days are like heaven. I discover a new talent for running and hiding. Finally a place where my velvet tread will be useful. I've sneaked up on Oak a few times, scared him. Together, he and I do everything in the huge center.

"Up, Seal. Time for breakfast. You have the private session this morning, lunch, and then your private training with Clove. After that, coaching for the interview, by none other than Clove, you'll get styled by Gina, and then we'll have the interviews."

I groan and open my eyes. I'm in the shower, and I feel the impulse to sing. So, I do. Nothing wrong with a little private singing, right? My mom says I have a mockingjay's voice. I might, and I can certainly use it when I want. I sing an old song from District Thirteen.

"_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where they strung up a man_

_They say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where the dead man called _

_For his love to flee._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where I told you to run_

_So we'd both be free_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Wear a necklace of rope_

_Side by side with me._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree."_

I don't notice it, but I'm carrying on all until I have to stop because of all the weird looks I'm getting. "What? I'm just singing! Don't any of you do that?" Praxely is the first to recover. "Three things Seal. Number one, you look at least fourteen in that braid, Two, how did you get your hair straight enough to braid, and Three, where did you get that wonderful singing voice?" I answer,

"One, thanks, two, a thing called a straightening iron that Gina gave me, and three, I don't know. And you thought I was good?" Chris says, "Your voice is just enchanting. I never knew you could sing." George nods. I drink the rest of my milk in an effort not to say anything else, and suddenly, it's time for us to go to the training center. Clove says, "Make sure you do the knives. I understand you've gotten good with archery too? Do that too. Do anything and everything that will make you look like victor potential. Got it?" I nod. She hugs me, and I put on the jacket she gives me. She says, "Good luck!" "Thanks, I'll need it." comes my reply.

I hum my tree song again. Everyone listens intently, but I ignore them. We sit on the bench outside. We're all there, and I catch a wink from Oak. Praxely whispers, "I talked to him about your voice. He caught me on the way to the bathroom, and since he mentioned he was allies with you, I told him about the whole singing incident." "You WHAT!" I'm getting ready to kill Praxely when an automated voice shrieks out, "Cecelia Johnson, District 2." I walk out seething, but not before Oak presses an envelope marked 'Read after Private Session'. I suppose it's about that whole song thing. I wish everyone would just drop that.

I tuck the paper into my pocket, and enter the training center. It's huge now. I mean, it was the same size before, but now it looks even huger. The survival skills are out near the outskirts, the weapons are piled at the center, and the dummies in a circle around it. I immediately pick up my small knife that I use in training.

I think, and I think some more. If everyone's in love with my singing, why don't I incorporate my song into my stabbing routine?

"_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where they strung up a man_

_They say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where the dead man called _

_For his love to flee._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where I told you to run_

_So we'd both be free_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Wear a necklace of rope_

_Side by side with me._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree."_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I hope that went well. I really do. When I get back, as if to casually be a music teacher, Clove teaches me a song that one of the tributes from an outer district (She couldn't remember which) sung in her games, to another dying tribute.

_Deep in the meadow_

_Under the willow_

_A bed of grass_

_A soft green pillow_

_Now lay down your head,_

_And close your sleepy eyes_

_For when again they open_

_The sun will rise._

There's more, but I couldn't manage to wheedle it out of Clove. I suspect this about Clove: She has a soft side, but she uses her overly powerful tough side to hide it. It only comes out once in a while.

I'm still humming it all through lunch, and through District 1's training scores. They get 9s and 10s. Good for them. Now, us. I lean forward and listen intently.

"Chris Mason, from District 2: A score of 9." Much cheering can be heard, and I'm extremely happy for my sister's boyfriend. He's complaining, though. Gosh, how stuck up can you get? Unluckily for me, I get my score last, since they're going in alphabetical order. "George Mason, District 2: A score of 8." That's excellent for George. We all applaud. He seems happy. "Praxely Johnson, from District 2: A score of 10." Wow! My sister must have done really well for that. We all applaud, and I watch her tease Chris about being beaten by a girl. _Well, he's about to get beaten by two girls."_

If I got an eight against his nine, it would be like I had beaten him. That's all I hope for as Lenny reads out this, "And lastly from District 2, Cecelia Johnson, with a score of…"

Lenny looked down at his paper. He couldn't believe it. Such spirit in that small girl, but still… He read the number on the paper, still unable to believe it. What had this girl done?

"Eleven"

What? Amidst all of the applause, I'm extremely confused. An eleven? For singing and juggling knives? I'm happy, but still. Confused. I tune out everything, until they get to District 12. Oak. "And finally, Oak Jenger, District 12, with a score of: eleven.

What? He got one too? He is good with that archery stuff, but still. What could he have done? Can he sing too? I dismiss that thought from my head. Wow. Two elevens tonight and both from very unlikely people. I shake my head, before Clove pulls me over for four hours of interview training.

She says this, and I quote, "I don't think you're gonna be able to pull off the innocent girl thing. Or funny. Adorable. Sweet. Likeable. Any of that. So, this is what I want you to do. Listen carefully. Just be yourself. How you are when no one's around. How you never feel obligated to be. Don't tell me what it is, but just feel it. Your thoughts, answer the questions with them. Got it?" "Yeah. I got it. Just, if he asks me a question and what I think is horrible…" "Say it anyways. And don't get worked up, apologize. You have the right to think what you want to think." I nod, not wanting to send her off into another rant.

I sit in my bedroom and play with the window for awhile. I lounge on my bed, and feel the pressure of the envelope still in my pocket. Oh, yeah! A letter from Oak. I open it upside down, and two things fall out. A gold pin, with a mockingjay attached by its wing tips to a circle. Second, a note. I take it out and read it.

_Praxely told me about how you can sing. You probably hate her, and my bringing it up didn't help the matter. I remembered my district token, the mockingjay pin, and I thought it would mean so much more for you than me. I do remember the day I got it, though. An old woman was selling jewelry and herbal remedies, sort of like an apothecary. I bought the pin, because it looked really cool, and I love the mockingjays that live in my District. _

_ The woman announced herself as Primrose Hawthorne. I stopped, and wondered. I had heard this girl's name before. She said, "My sister, Katniss Everdeen, was in the Hunger Games. She wore this pin. If you get reaped, I want you to take this into the arena. If you don't, give this to the person you know who does." I nodded, and I took that by heart._

_ I ended up being reaped. The pin was in my pocket. On the train ride, I remembered it. I wanted to keep it for myself, but if there was anyone out of the forty- seven other tributes that it made more sense for them to have, I swore I'd give it to them._

_ Since it obviously means more for you, you have it. It's a mark of our alliance. Also, of our bond. You're like the little sister I never had._

_ From Oak, District 12._

Wow.

Then, the prep team diverges on me. Silver eyeshadow, mascara, light pink lip gloss, and a whole lot of glossing my curls come through the door with them. Finally, Gina comes out with an outfit that I'm sure will make a splash at the interview.

It's silver. It has two- inch wide straps, a tight-ish bodice, and, most of all, a beautiful skirt, made with a fabric called silk. It comes down to my knees. It ripples and sparkles whenever I turn. It's my dress! And I love it. I attach the pin to my dress. Oak will be happy to see that I'm wearing it.

Half an hour later, I'm on the stage with Caesar Flickerman, still faithful to his interviews, even after fifty years. This is how our potentially awkward conversation goes.  
"Nice to meet you, Cecelia. Or should I call you Seal?"

"Yes. Can I call you Caesar?"

"Yeah. SO, when I saw your score, my heart just stopped. I thought, how could such a little girl get such a huge score? Any hints for the audience?"

"Nope. Can't tell, sorry."

"So, what's your favorite part of the Capitol so far?"

"I love the windows. They're just so cool."

"Really? The windows? We have cool windows, evidently, folks. So I couldn't help but notice your pin. I interviewed a lady from the 74th games who had that same pin. Her name was…"

"Katniss Everdeen. I know."

"How do you know it was hers?"

"Um…" Oh crap. I was stuck. And I didn't know Katniss was in Clove's games!

"I know what must have happened. Clove saw it, and… wait, she's your mentor, right?"

"Yeah. She saw it and told me whose pin it was."

"Oh. That's what I thought. What are your thoughts about this year's tributes? There are a lot more of them, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I've noticed. Those 47 others better watch out."

*DING* the timer goes off, and Caesar is kissing my hand and going, "Cecelia Johnson, District 2!" and I'm off the stage.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I am determined to win. I am. I just am. Nobody can win but me. And, if by an amazing chance, I die, Oak can win. I wish we could both win. He is like my big brother. Chris but better. All of this I think about while I attempt to sing myself to sleep tonight, the last couple of hours before my weeks in the arena.

"_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where they strung up a man_

_They say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where the dead man called _

_For his love to flee._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where I told you to run_

_So we'd both be free_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Wear a necklace of rope_

_Side by side with me._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree."_

I suppose it works, because the next thing I see is the dazzling sunlight reflecting off of the white buildings into my eyes. I get up, before Jenessa can come get me. I straighten my hair, and put it in a side braid. I put on some mascara that my prep team left out, and go to the lobby of the training center with Clove's hand on my back.

A hovercraft comes and picks us up, forty-eight neat ladders marked with our names and district numbers. I find mine, and immediately, I'm frozen to it by some kind of current. We're lifted into the hovercraft.

A lady comes up to me and says, "I'll be placing your tracker. The more still you are, the more accurately I can place it. Well, I can't move, so how much more still can I get? The lady drills a tracker into my arm, and it hurts but only a little more than pricking my finger at the reaping.

The reaping. It seems so far away now. But it was only three days away. Only three. Three where I could live the way I wanted, make my own choices, and not be concerned about my own life. Three days ago, that I would give almost anything to be able to go back to.

The windows darken, which means we're really close to the arena now. I gulp. The arena, it's one of the most scary places in the world. 47 people will die there. One might be me. The one that stands alone might be me. You'll never know. I know one thing, though. My winning means the death of the people I love. Praxely. George. Chris. Even Oak. And, since I will be in there, fighting for my life, anyone else's winning means my death.

We're dropped off. The peacekeepers herd us into a two by two line, and then march us down a long corridor. We start splitting off into separate rooms. I go sixth into mine. I wait inside to see none other than Gina waiting for me.

She gives me the outfit, and tells me to get dresses. A black shirt and pants, designed for protecting against cold. A jacket, which provides an internal heating and cooling system. A weak one, but nevertheless. A pair of boots, silver cowboy boots. Mine, from the chariot ride. Gina pins on the mockingjay under my jacket, right over my heart.

An auto mated voice says, "FIVE MINUTES!" making us both jump. I sing to pass the time.

I finally wheedled the last bit of that song out of Clove. I sing it now.

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray, _

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you._

I sung, and the tube said, "FIVE SECONDS!" I jumped again. This was it. I hopped in the tube. Gina blew me a kiss. I mess with my pin as I rise up through the tube in my glass cylinder. I get to the top, and I'm blinded by sunlight.

Snow. That's what I see, everywhere. I suddenly understand the outfit. Everyone's dressed in pretty much the same thing. Different color shirts, though. I was lucky enough to get black. It holds in the heat.

I'm standing on a silver pedestal, and us forty-eight are all in a circle around a Cornucopia that has stuff spilling out of it on all four sides. I turn away, and a forest, barely snowed on, small, but thickly packed. I make the willow tree I know to be in the center my target. Also, a smallish black backpack and a metal can of something are in my way, so I make a mental note to pick that up, too.

"60... 59... 58... 57..." I look at the numbers as they boom by, counting the seconds until we can safely go into the arena without getting blown up. It was too late for one kid. I see George. But he wasn't blown up. He had taken off both of his shoes, and thrown them right near the pedestals of two of the kids. Luckily, not Oak. But, the two kids were blown to shreds, and then died. Well! That was rude, and probably illegal. "20... 19... 18... 17... 16... 15... 14..." the deep voice rings out. I shiver, and not just because of the cold.

I start frantically searching the circle for my ally. I see him about midway around. I point to the forest. He nods. The gong rings. Then, all heck breaks loose.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

I'm still poised on my pedestal when everyone starts moving. I can't see the cornucopia for bodies. I can't see Oak, either, among all of his pursuers. I hope he comes out all right. He didn't take anything with him, so I go a little deeper into the mess, and swipe another bag and a bow and quiver. I get my bag, and I set off to the forest at an unnaturally fast pace.

I don't feel like I'm walking at all, more like gliding. I look down. In my tracks, I see dark ice. Ha! Ice that could have cracked had anyone else set foot on it. I quickly cover it back up with snow. That I could use for an advantage. My light weight. I had just barely gotten over the ice, because a few tiny fissures had formed. This was the best arena for me!

I reached the forest, about 200 meters after getting off the ice. I ran into the middle of it, looking for that tree. I didn't find it, but I found a tall, leafy one with thin branches. Another advantage! Any pursuers wouldn't be able to climb up here and get me. Also, I'd be mostly hidden from view.

I heard of loud cracking sound, and a couple of screams. I knew what was happening, and I hoped that it wasn't anyone I knew falling through that ice and drowning. I heard three cannons about five minutes later. I guess they had either drowned or contracted hypothermia.

Then, the bloodbath cannons started. I guess it was over. I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 cannons. Eighteen people were dead. Thirty were left. I shuddered. I also looked in my backpacks. I dropped to the ground, under a couple of rocks, bow strung, and dumped the stuff out to take inventory. This is what I had:

BACKPACK 1

A full water bottle

An iodine dropper

A length of rope

A pack of dried meat

Two knives (YES!)

A small sleeping bag

BACKPACK 2

A spear

Spearheads

A rock

Empty Water bottle

Dried fruit

Three arrows

A pair of mittens

I was extremely happy with this bounty. I packed them back up, and climbed back up the tree and waited, bow strung, for some stupid person to come along. Nobody came along, and it got dark. I drank half of the contents of my water bottle, and ate half of the dried fruit. I fell asleep in my sleeping bag, roped into my tree.

I woke up to something cold and wet falling on my face. Crap! It was snowing. Something I should have suspected. Ugh! I was about to slide deeper into the sleeping bag when it crossed my mind that I could fill my bottles with snow, so I'd have water when it melted. I spent the next our scraping snow off trees into one while the other one caught snow. It took forever to fill them both.

I heard screams, and they were getting closer. I finally saw the tributes from 6 and the tributes from 7, and they were chasing Oak. I picked up the bow. I didn't want to use the knives yet, because this wasn't my battle, and if they died, the knives might still be in their hearts when they get picked up. Or their buddies might throw it back at me.

It was a full five minutes of brawling before anyone noticed me. I put on my best death glare, and pulled the bow string back to my chin. The guy jumped right back in the brawl, so I shot an arrow at him. One of the guys noticed me and broke away. He started hurling knives at me. I caught all of them. I said, "Thanks for the knives." Just for good measure, I hurled one back at the guy's heart, and he died.

Now just a girl was left fighting Oak. She was probably about seventeen. She was bigger than him, and it looked like she was winning. I hurled my last knife at her, and she died instantly. Oak took the two knives and the arrow out before he climbed the tree, and stayed a bit lower than me, perhaps suspecting that the thinner branches might not hold his weight. He looked back up the tree, but I hid.

He said, "Little tree, did you save me?" I said, "How long is it gonna take for you to figure out that trees aren't alive in the same way as we are?" He was talking to the one he climbed two days ago in training. He looked up. "Oh! Hi. Was that you that just saved me?" "Yup. Oh, and by the way, since you didn't get anything before the bloodbath started, here's a backpack, and your archery crap."

"Thanks. You're the best." I said, "Nothing a friend wouldn't do. I filled your bottle with snow, and made sure it wasn't poisoned; you must be dehydrated." "Yeah. Thanks." "Just go to sleep. I'll take the watch. But, you might want to stay awake to see who was killed today." " Not really. Just tell me when I wake up." "OK." And then, unbeknownst to be, I started singing.

_Deep in the meadow_

_Under the willow_

_A bed of grass_

_A soft green pillow_

_Now lay down your head,_

_And close your sleepy eyes_

_For when again they open_

_The sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, Here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you_

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes, and let your troubles lay _

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away_

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

The Capitol anthem starts, and between its loudness and Oak's snoring, I find it hard to believe I'm not deaf yet. I saw the eighteen people in the sky. One of every District was dead. George, from mine. He is pretty small. I cried. Two tributes were dead from 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. These were going to be a long two weeks. I dumped water on Oak's head, insisting that he take the shift now. I went to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I wake up to more flakes of snow hitting my face. I decide to go and hunt. I leave a note for Oak, which I wrote on the bark of the tree using berry juice. I trample through the white forest, making sure to step lightly in case there is very thin ice underneath me. I see a couple of snow rabbits. I take them down with the knives, as usual. Using the method Clove taught me.

I'm carrying them back when I hear, "Seal! SEAL!" I run the rest of the way back. Evidently Oak can't read. "Can't you read?" "Nope. Never got the hang of it. Even though I am in the last grade at school. I can paint, though." "Oh. Then how did you write that note?" "That? Your friend wrote it down for me." "Friend? Who" "Your friend George? I told him what to write and he did." "Oh. Okay. Well, I'll just teach you how to read while we cook these rabbits.

A couple more days pass. It's now the end of the first week in. I taught Oak how to read the note he gave me. He knows how to now. We're sitting at the fire. Roasting more snow rabbits. It's like that's the only thing that lives in these woods. I'm attacking my rabbit when I hear, "Seal! Help! HELP!" Then a cracking noise. I slide two knives into my pocket. I hear the cracking of ice. More screaming. I know who that is. The screaming is unmistakable. I yell, "Prax! I'm coming! Try to hold on!" I say to Oak, "I'll be right back."

Running through the woods takes longer than I thought it would. It takes five minutes, the entire time yelling for Praxely in the hopes she'll yell back. I finally get there to find an almost tired out Praxely holding on to the edge of the ice, almost completely submerged. I drag her out. She says, "Thanks. I'm really cold Seal…" I take off my jacket and give it to her, and repin the mockingjay onto my shirt.

It is about five minutes before I realize she is going to die. I crouch beside her. "I'm going to die, aren't I Seal?" "Your lips are white. I think so. Do you want me to sing to you?" "Yes."

"_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where they strung up a __man_

_They say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree?_

_Where the dead man called _

_For his love to flee._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight_

_In the hanging tree._

I stroke her hair. I only got that far into the song before I heard the cannon. Then, footsteps on the snow. Chris. I look up to find tears in the eyes of the person I thought would never cry. I whisper, "Take care of her." Then, I run back into the woods as fast as I possibly can. I don't want to see them collect my sister's body, preparing it to be sent back home to District 2. I can't think of anything else, except, "My best friend just died." I run in tears back into the tree. Then, as the night grows colder, I realize I forgot to take my jacket.

I can't bear it. Once I see her face up in the sky, I slip down to Oak and let him hug me. I can't take it. I feel like I'll wither away right here. I bury my face into the shoulder of his jacket. I slip into my sleeping bag and wait for morning to come.

This afternoon I woke up. I was angry that Oak didn't wake me up to take the shift. I realized that I needed to go somewhere by myself, maybe to hunt, gather berries. Another cannon startles me. I wonder who died. I climb a tall tree to survey the scene, but it's unclear. I think it's male.

I cross my fingers that it's not Chris. I sing the rest of the unfinished tree song and listen as the mockingjays whistle it back to me. "This pin has real meaning for me," I thought, and I sung simple tunes to the mockingjays for the rest of the day until I finally heard the anthem.

Two tributes died today. The last two remaining from District 12. Oak must be sad. I have to go and console him.

As I trek back, I count up how many players are left. Thirteen on the first day, and thirteen more during the full course of the week. So, now, with those two, twenty-eight tributes are gone. As the anthem fades, I start to hear the yelling and screaming of a fight. Then, once it's over, the cannons. "It was a big fight," I think as I count the cannons. Ten. Now, thirty-eight are gone. Ten left. Two left that I don't want to kill. One left that I'm not so sure about. One person, a twelve year old, though, even though she's a Career, had no odds of winning.

A person who people might forget if she doesn't show them something. That is when, right then, that I decide that it's time for change. The Hunger Games are nothing to go through at such a young age. Or an old age, even. I make a plan. I whisper it in Oak's ear, and he nods.

That plan was before everything went wrong.


End file.
